WJ Chapter 129

Go Out the East Gate (2)

By the time deep winter arrived, the Protector’s condition had grown even worse.

Under Guan Muyan’s daily silver-needle acupuncture, the old injuries he had suppressed were drawn out one by one, the deep-rooted ailments in his lungs, meridians, and bone marrow all coming to collect their debts.

The grinding pain was secondary — what Guan Wujue truly could not endure was the all-encompassing feeling of weakness and fragility that swept through him from head to toe.

Guan Muyan’s medical skill was genuinely formidable; it could render his body completely beyond his own control. Guan Wujue watched helplessly as his body grew more and more delicate and sensitive. He began unable to tolerate the cold — in the past, riding through wind and snow on horseback through the bitterest days of winter for an entire night had been no problem at all, yet now he could not be parted from soft quilts and a warm brazier for even a moment. His energy, too, was utterly depleted; he could sleep through an entire day, and even upon waking remained dazed and muddleheaded, being fed water, food, and medicinal broth in a stupor before collapsing back into sleep again.

Worse still, he could no longer endure illness and pain through sheer force of will as he once had. Now, whenever the Protector tried to act against his body’s limits, within a few hours he would burn with fever until he lost consciousness, consuming untold amounts of manpower and resources in the process. After one or two such incidents, Guan Wujue finally no longer dared to push himself.

In this state, every physician Medicine Gate had sent to attend the Protector waited on him with fear and trembling, terrified that any misstep with this distinguished personage might invite the Sect Leader’s wrath and cost them their heads.

Guan Muyan had once coaxed him with the promise that, barring any mishaps, he ought to improve within roughly ten days or so. Yet more than a month had passed and he remained unchanged — no better, no worse, simply wearing away like this.

Heaven have mercy — the Four Directions Protector had lived more than twenty years; when had he ever tasted anything like this?

Even in the year his heart meridian had been destroyed and he had been told he could never again practice martial arts, he had at least still possessed the courage to cast aside half his broken life and enter Ghost Gate alone.

But what was this now? He had endured five years of grinding hardship in Ghost Gate — not so that the Sect Leader could keep feeding and clothing a useless invalid like this.

Watching nearly another month pass with no change, Guan Wujue was truly on the verge of breaking down.

It must be said that even when Protector Guan looked back on this period later, he still felt ashamed. During those days, he would catch the Sect Leader and beg with pitiful weeping — and being delirious with illness, he would sob without even knowing what nonsense he was babbling —

Sect Leader, please don’t keep this subordinate anymore…

Abandon me…

I truly cannot be cured…

This subordinate doesn’t want to take medicine anymore, please…

Using this much medicine is too wasteful…

Can’t you just let me die…

…Truly the most disgraceful loss of composure imaginable, and so melodramatic at that. It was remarkable that a person of the Sect Leader’s temperament had not been driven away by his pestering — and had instead been willing, day after day, to patiently coax him through his treatment.

However, there was one exceptional occasion that came later.

It was already year’s end. On a certain day, Guan Wujue truly refused to comply, unwilling under any circumstances to continue taking his medicine. Yun Changliu could no longer bear to watch him beg on and on in such weak and helpless desperation. He finally relented, leaning down tenderly to soothe the Protector at his ear. “All right, all right… This lord promises you — no medicine for now. Stop making a fuss.”

Beside them, Guan Muyan’s expression changed. “Sect Leader! This is absolutely out of the question——”

Yun Changliu pressed a finger to his lips and made a silencing gesture, then continued to hold Guan Wujue close, coaxing him in a gentle voice.

Only after repeatedly reassuring him several times that there would be no more medicine did the one in his arms slowly quiet down. The Sect Leader was silent for a long while. His slender fingertip traced the Protector’s ice-cold, pallid cheek, and he let out a soft, wistful sigh.

Guan Wujue, having received his assurance, drifted off into a hazy sleep. In that half-dreaming, half-waking state, he only sensed a stream of pure warmth flowing up from his palm, spreading through his five organs and six viscera, circulating again and again without cease.

At the time, Guan Wujue already vaguely felt a premonition that something was wrong, but powerless against his failing strength, he could not manage to wake himself no matter how he tried.

He slept for what was likely close to two days, sinking deeper and deeper into slumber.

When consciousness gradually returned, he opened his eyes and blinked. A hazy, warm, amber glow slowly sharpened in his vision, and he saw a sweep of cool, pristine white robes reflected in the candlelight.

It was deep in the night. Outside the window, all was pitch-black, and a thin north wind sent bare branches trembling, filling the air with a soft rustling sound.

Qingjue Residence was, unusually, empty of all the attending physicians. There was only a single candle lamp by the bedside, two people upon the bed, and two intertwined shadows cast below it.

Guan Wujue lay on the bed; Yun Changliu sat at the head of the bed, holding his hand. When the Sect Leader turned, his handsome features carried an unusual pallor, and there were faint dark circles beneath his eyes — yet he offered the Protector a small smile.

“You’re awake. Are you feeling any better?”

His voice was calm, only somewhat hoarse.

Guan Wujue’s thoughts turned sluggishly, like a rusted old cartwheel. After a long while, he finally became aware of the warmth flowing from his palm — unmistakably Yun Changliu’s internal energy.

The medicine had been stopped. By rights, he should have been dead.

Yet now he felt not the slightest discomfort in his body.

— Someone had used the most laborious method imaginable to nurture his organs and meridians with their own internal energy!

Yun Changliu reached toward the small table at the head of the bed and lifted away the plate that had been turned upside down over a small porcelain bowl. Inside, just as expected, were dumplings, still warm, wisps of steam rising from them.

“Come,” said Yun Changliu, wrapping an arm around Guan Wujue’s shoulders and neck, slowly helping the Protector sit up — half-supporting, half-embracing him. He patiently picked up a small bite of dumpling, blew on it, and brought it to his lips. “Open up.”

Guan Wujue shook his head. He could barely hold back his tears. He turned and pressed his face into the hollow of Yun Changliu’s neck, his voice trembling. “Sect Leader…”

His fingers clutched at Yun Changliu’s sleeve hem, and his voice broke with emotion. “This subordinate… Wujue wants to take his medicine…”

Yun Changliu paused slightly, then softened helplessly, his brows and eyes yielding. The Sect Leader set down the jade chopsticks and patted him on the back, calling for the attending physician to come in. “Go — brew the Protector’s medicine.”

Brewing the medicine would take time, so Guan Wujue was still fed a few bites of food by the Sect Leader. Before long, Wen Feng and Guan Muyan entered as well, and the room grew a little livelier — though Guan Wujue had begun to feel drowsy again, and after making the effort to drink his medicine, he closed his eyes.

“Sect Leader…”

Just before truly falling asleep, Guan Wujue murmured indistinctly, “Wait… wait until Wujue recovers, I want to…”

Yun Changliu felt a sudden rush of joy well up within him. Since the convalescence and treatment had begun, the Protector had never once said anything like this — he had never held any hope for his own future, only begging again and again to be given up.

The Sect Leader quickly spoke in a soft voice, “When you recover, whatever this lord can give, I will give you all of it.”

Yet Yun Changliu did not know that Guan Wujue had not actually wanted anything material. What he had meant to say was: Once Wujue recovers, I want to stay by the Sect Leader’s side properly.

But alas, before the Protector could get the words out, he was pulled back down into deep sleep by exhaustion.

From that day on, Guan Wujue never again dared to make a fuss about refusing his medicine.

****

Several more days passed. Outside, light snow drifted down.

Inside Qingjue Residence, Yun Changliu had moved a desk and table to the Protector’s bedside.

He sat before the table, writing with an ink brush as he reviewed documents, while keeping watch on the patient in the bed from the corner of his eye.

This scene had, in truth, continued for many days now.

Wen Feng had even privately complained to Wen Huan:

“Father, haven’t you noticed that the Sect Leader’s behavior right now seems strangely familiar? When he was little, he used to run to Ah Ku’s place every single day like this! Guan Wujue is competing with me, his personal attendant, for the master’s attention again…”

Today, the Protector had, for once, a small measure of energy — a good sign. His mood was better for it, and he lay wrapped in his quilt, turning onto his side to chat with the Sect Leader.

A person’s character is shaped by being doted upon. Guan Wujue was not, at his core, the sort of person who had been molded from birth into a servile and silent weapon — day by day, under Yun Changliu’s devoted care, and after thoroughly making a fuss several days prior, he was no longer so rigidly restrained before the Sect Leader. He could at least bring himself to speak up on his own initiative.

He talked about the trials inside Ghost Gate — about how he had gone from ranking near the bottom to becoming strong enough to beat Yang Yue into the ground unable to rise. And finally, he spoke of the cinnabar plum tree outside Ghost Gate’s walls, saying that he had thought at the time that if he died, he could lie forever beneath such a beautiful plum tree — and that he hadn’t been afraid of dying.

Yun Changliu, worried that too much talking would tire him again, had heard enough and urged the Protector to go to sleep.

And so Guan Wujue fell asleep once more — and was again insensible for two or three days.

The next time he came back to his senses, he looked out the window and was so startled he nearly thought himself still in a dream.

Outside Qingjue Residence, cinnabar plum trees had been planted everywhere.

It was a great expanse of rouge-like red; clusters of blossoms bloomed on the branches, and the delicate fragrance of the plums drifted into the room even through closed windows.

“Once the Protector’s body has fully recovered, you may lie beneath the trees however you like.”

Yun Changliu, robes white as surpassing snow, walked in from outside, holding a single cinnabar plum he had just plucked. The Sect Leader leaned down over the bedside, and gently placed the vivid crimson blossom against Guan Wujue’s pallid cheek. “No more thoughts of dying.”

The corners of Guan Wujue’s eyes curved softly. He raised a hand to pick up the red plum blossom, and responded in a yielding voice, “…Yes.”

As he spoke, the Protector turned his head again to gaze at the red plums outside the window, lost in some private thought, the corner of his lips slowly curling upward.

A sudden, scorching warmth rushed through Yun Changliu’s chest. He gazed at Guan Wujue, lost in a daze.

The Sect Leader, who had always been one of pure heart and few desires, found his thoughts thrown into disarray by that faint smile. Keeping his expression composed and calm on the surface, inside his heart was quietly fluttering with a somewhat flustered thought: Wujue is happy — this person, when he smiles happily, is truly beautiful. How can he be this beautiful?

The cinnabar plum was rare and precious, yet it was, in the end, only a few trees. And it turned out that giving something so small could make the Four Directions Protector smile like this…

This person — hard to coax, one might say; yet easy to coax, one could equally say.

****

Winter passed; spring came.

As the weather warmed, the effects of the treatment finally began to show.

Guan Wujue’s condition started to gradually improve from its lowest point. Guan Muyan changed his prescription, and at last gave the Protector some psychological relief as well.

Once Guan Wujue felt somewhat better, he again insisted on helping the Sect Leader with various tasks. But after one whole winter of being frightened time and again by his fragile state, Yun Changliu did not dare allow the Protector to strain himself while still ill.

Every time, Guan Wujue would muster a little energy and try to look over some sect affairs on the Sect Leader’s behalf — only to be pressed back down into bed by Yun Changliu before even one incense stick’s worth of time had passed.

Yet even in those brief moments, the ability the Protector displayed was still something the Sect Leader found so admirable. One day, on a sudden impulse, Yun Changliu sighed. “How is it that the Protector understands this lord’s mind so well?”

At the time, Guan Wujue, lying idly in his quilt and gazing at the Sect Leader’s elegant back, was in the grip of illness — and inevitably, his mind relaxed without guard. Without thinking, the words slipped out. “Perhaps we were fated in a past life…”

Then he immediately startled awake. “This subordinate spoke out of turn!”

To his surprise, Yun Changliu actually turned around, expression perfectly serious, and asked, “What kind of fate?”

Guan Wujue grew a little anxious, thinking in vexation — this is terrible, this truly is what comes of being spoiled by the Sect Leader, how is it that he now blurts out anything and everything — “This subordinate was talking nonsense. Sect Leader, please forgive the offense.”

To his surprise, Yun Changliu actually set down his brush, turned around at his leisure to face him fully, and studied the Protector with considerable amusement. “Go on — tell me what kind of fate.”

“This… Sect Leader, this subordinate really cannot…”

Guan Wujue had not expected the Sect Leader to suddenly pursue the matter so relentlessly. After deflecting uselessly several times, he watched as Yun Changliu had already left the desk and come to sit at his bedside. The Protector resigned himself to his fate, closed his eyes, and steeled himself to begin fabricating something:

“The fate… is — is a fate of grace and debt. In a past life, Wujue was a medicinal herb, and you, Sect Leader, were an immortal lord afflicted with grave illness. Too ill to leave the celestial palace, you had nothing to do but water that wild herb through the window each day…”

Yun Changliu listened attentively. “And then?”

Guan Wujue drew a deep breath. “Wujue was originally a withering, dying weed, yet through your devoted care and watering, drinking in the essence of the sun and moon, I gradually gained a spirit, and took on human form. Meanwhile, your illness grew heavier and heavier, and later…”

Yun Changliu asked, “Later, you — this medicinal herb — sacrificed yourself to save this lord?”

Guan Wujue felt a pang of sorrow within, thinking: how perceptive the Sect Leader is — yes, exactly that — and then you forgot me. But he let nothing show, and shook his head:

“No… Later, your illness was beyond cure, and you died in suffering. Wujue was a medicinal herb who could not save you — naturally, I was filled with grief and remorse. So I vowed that in this life, I would come to repay your debt of watering.”

Yun Changliu asked again, “How to repay it?”

Guan Wujue smiled. He met the Sect Leader’s gaze with rare boldness, his eyes dimly aglow, and said in a quiet voice, “Were I a woman, I would perhaps repay it with tears — but alas, Wujue was reborn a man, and can only offer you this body and this blood.”